


Need a Solution to Play

by San Antonio Rose (ramblin_rosie)



Series: The Stanford Adventure Club [7]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic), Supernatural
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Sexual Harassment, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblin_rosie/pseuds/San%20Antonio%20Rose
Summary: Gil and Agatha Wulfenbach's elopement sets off enough bombshells to load a B-17, exposing many more secrets than just their own.
Relationships: Agatha Heterodyne/Gilgamesh "Gil" Wulfenbach
Series: The Stanford Adventure Club [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023742
Kudos: 4





	1. If Only People Could Talk

_March 22, 2001  
Beetleburg, Nebraska_

“... unexpected warm front that’s just blown up from the Ozarks,” the weatherman said as Judy Clay switched the radio over to Beetleburg’s oldies station. “Spring is definitely in the air! The National Weather Service has no predictions yet as to how long this warm spell will last, so enjoy it while you can, folks!”

Judy exchanged confused frowns with her husband Adam. Unexpected weather events were par for the course in the American Midwest, but what could cause a front to be so strange even the NWS couldn’t predict its movements?

Judy was glad for the warning, however, because the roads had been pretty nasty most of the way from Omaha but suddenly thawed out about the time the Clays reached the outskirts of Beetleburg. The sky was clear, if a bit misty from the melting snow and ice evaporating off sidewalks and streets, and the sun was bright and warm enough that Adam actually turned off the heater. Some of the trees were budding out, and they passed a couple of houses where the Bradford pears were in full bloom.

 _Need food?_ he asked when they stopped at a stoplight.

“Probably,” she replied. “I forgot to ask Agatha to go shopping, and she sounded pretty upset when she called anyway. Gil might have thought to, but I don’t think we should count on it.”

He nodded, and when the light changed, he turned to go to Walmart.

“I hope they’re all right,” she sighed. “There was something... I don’t know... _odd_ about the way she said Gil was with her. And it sounded like they were driving somewhere. I don’t—I hope—”

 _Good kids_ , he signed with only his right hand. _Not worry_.

“I know, I know. It’s just... mom’s prerogative.”

He smiled.

Walmart’s parking lot was surprisingly full when the Clays arrived, and most of the customers running in and out were young women and mothers. “I wonder if there’s a sale,” Judy thought aloud while Adam parked under a suspiciously leafy tree at the far end of the lot.

There weren’t any signs to that effect visible as they entered the store. But Adam had just accepted a cart from the elderly greeter when Judy heard a feminine wail of “ _Sold out?!_ ”

“I know,” said another female voice. “So is Walgreen’s, and I heard CVS is, too. It’s crazy.”

The first woman groaned. “Well, I dunno about you, but I’m taking my chances as soon as Brad gets home.”

“Seriously. If Tom has to work late, I might have to file for divorce.”

 _Something in water?_ Adam wondered as the Clays moved on to avoid eavesdropping.

Judy shrugged and grimaced. _In air, maybe_. Now that she thought about it, he was looking particularly handsome all of a sudden—but she was already past menopause, which might account for her milder reaction to whatever was going on.

Her attention was diverted moments later, however, when a particularly gossipy church friend accosted them in the bread aisle. “Oh, Judy, _there_ you are!” Carla began. “Have you heard the _terrible_ news about Cody Senear?”

Adam feigned both deafness and intense interest in the bread selection.

Judy frowned. “You mean the fact that he’s been harassing Agatha all week?”

Carla recoiled and blinked. “Oh. No, I... I hadn’t heard that part. Poor boy’s in the hospital—his phone exploded in his hand while he was talking on it.”

“Most likely while he was _threatening Agatha_ on it. She said he’s been calling upwards of twenty times a day, trying to get her to go to prom with him.”

Carla’s eyes widened as her mouth drew into a silent ‘oh.’ “I don’t suppose she’ll be going with him now.”

“She wasn’t going with him in the first place. She’s taking Gil Wulfenbach. He’s home on break from Stanford.”

“Oh, _reeeeally?_ ”

Adam coughed pointedly and put his selections in the cart.

“Yes, and Agatha’s probably stuck trying to feed him with an empty pantry,” Judy said hurriedly, “so we’d better get going. See you Sunday!” And she let Adam herd her away before Carla could say anything else.

 _What you think?_ Adam asked when they were safely two aisles away.

Judy shook her head. “I don’t know.”

They finished their shopping as quickly as possible and headed home, the sudden spring effect growing more noticeable as they drove, as did the heady feeling that was almost as bad as being a teenager again. The thaw was markedly further advanced on their street, and more of the trees had buds on them. Judy could see Gil’s car in their driveway well before they arrived, but it wasn’t until they pulled into the driveway themselves that she could see the state of the house... and it looked like the epicenter of a springtime explosion.

The pavement was dry. The snow was gone, even from the crevices of the roof. The grass was lush and green. The trees were in full leaf. And the flowerbeds were a riot of color. Perennials that had died back, annuals that hadn’t even sprouted yet on Monday— _everything_ was blooming. Even the sunlight seemed brighter; if Judy hadn’t known better, she might have thought it was _May_.

Both Adam and Judy stared in slack-jawed shock while the garage door opened. Then they exchanged a look and took deep, bracing breaths before Adam pulled the car into the garage and parked. But the moment Judy opened her door to get out, her head cleared completely. She didn’t figure out why until she approached the door into the kitchen while Adam hurriedly shoved the frozen foods into the chest freezer. There was a hum, a familiar heterodyne hum...

... a _two-voiced_ hum, one soprano that she recognized as Agatha, one baritone.

“ _Barry!_ ” Judy breathed, startling Adam, and unlocked the kitchen door as quickly as possible. They both rushed in...

... to find Agatha and _Gil_ sitting at the breakfast table, holding hands, staring glumly into their coffee, and humming absently. Judy was at a loss—she’d never heard anyone but Bill, Barry, and Agatha hum like that before. Why was Gil doing it all of a sudden? And why wasn’t Agatha wearing her glasses?

Adam recovered first and set the groceries on the counter with more of a clatter than usual. That startled the kids out of their reverie... and as soon as they stopped humming, Judy’s head swam again. Fortunately, she had braced herself for the possibility that it might and was thus able not to sway from the impact.

“Mom! Dad!” Agatha said, signing _Hello_ as she turned toward the kitchen. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!”

Judy smiled and set her purse on the counter. “That’s all right, honey. Hello, Gil.”

Gil turned around and smiled back, more hesitantly. “Hi.”

“How’s Max?” Agatha asked quickly as Judy came over for a hug and Adam shook hands with Gil.

“She’s fine,” Judy replied. “Her gall bladder was badly infected, but they got it out just in time. Didn’t even have to open her up, just did it laparoscopically. We took her home after you called yesterday. She’s on sick leave through the end of the month and light duty for some time after that, but she’s already up and walking some.”

“Oh, good. That’s a relief.”

“And Steve and Jeff send their love.”

Gil blinked. “Steve and Jeff?”

Agatha laughed. “Leave it to Max to name her sons after Steve Irwin and Jeff Corwin.”

“Oh.” Gil managed a chuckle.

After an uncomfortable pause, Judy said, “All right, you two. Out with it. What’s going on?”

Agatha and Gil looked at each other, took deep breaths, looked at Adam and Judy, and chorused, “We need to talk to you about something.”

Adam glanced uneasily at Judy.

“Does this have anything to do with what happened to Cody?” Judy asked.

Gil grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That was me. Um, it... kind of does, but not really, sort of... um... well....”

 _We go living room?_ Adam suggested.

Both kids nodded and stood, giving Judy a closer look at their eyes, which... seemed to have traded color in certain small patches. Before she could puzzle over it too much, however, Agatha snagged her purse from the back of her chair, and they followed Adam down the hall to the living room. Judy brought up the rear, catching a glimpse of the gold-and-emerald band on Agatha’s left ring finger, covering a black stain on her skin, as she clutched Gil’s right hand like a lifeline. That answered at least one question... but several others replaced it as they walked into the living room. A faded spider lily on the coffee table, which Judy had been trying to coax back to health, suddenly turned green and sent up several bloom stalks as the kids passed, and a wilted Christmas cactus on an end table in the corner likewise greened up and grew its branches by several segments as the kids sat down on the couch in front of the window.

Gil fidgeted a little while Adam and Judy settled into their recliners, then cleared his throat and looked at Adam. “I was originally planning to ask you about this privately, sir. And I’m sorry we—I—er—” He faltered to a stop and looked at Agatha.

Agatha took a deep breath. “Mom, Dad... yesterday, Gil and I... we kind of... um, here.” She opened her purse, took out a half-sheet of paper, and handed it to Judy.

It was a marriage certificate.

“I’m sorry we didn’t wait for you to come home,” Agatha continued in a rush as Judy handed the certificate to Adam and looked at her again. “But with... with Cody and everything... I-I-I really don’t have a good reason. We just couldn’t.”

Gil put his right arm around her shoulders. “We’ve been thinking we’d keep it a secret for now,” he said quietly. “Not from you, obviously, but not... not announce it or anything until after graduation. Do some premarital counseling before we move Agatha in with me. Maybe have a church wedding this summer, or... if we can’t get the church, maybe Pastor Murphy can come down from Blue Earth, and we can do it at the park or something.”

Judy looked at Adam, who nodded, and nodded herself. “Well, that sounds fine,” she said, surprising herself with how calm she sounded. “Did you have a date in mind?”

“June 21,” both kids blurted out, then blinked and looked at each other in surprise.

“Um,” said Gil. “We hadn’t—but—yeah.”

“Yeah,” Agatha agreed. “I don’t—it’s—right. Yeah.”

Adam and Judy exchanged another glance, and Adam sighed a little, nodded, and set the certificate on the coffee table.

Gil looked him in the eye. “We got married first, sir. I don’t want you to think—”

Adam smiled at that and signed, _Understand. Thank you._

“I think we all knew this was coming eventually,” Judy added. “Could have been better timing, I admit, but... well, I think we would have forgiven you even if you had put the cart before the horse. But you didn’t, and I’m proud of you both for that.”

The tension in the room eased significantly... but not, Judy noted, completely.

“It won’t be possible to keep it a secret from _everyone_ ,” she went on. “We’ll need to find out how long Agatha has to change her name on her driver’s license and school records, for one thing, and we’ll need to inform Agatha’s trustees. You should probably each make a will, too, if not now, then at least by the time Agatha turns 21.”

Gil blinked and looked at Agatha. “Trust....”

Agatha nodded. “My father was—”

“Ohh, Sanders Brothers Defense. _Right_. Forgot about that. I’m not used to thinking of you as an heiress,” he added with a teasing smile.

Agatha blushed and giggled.

Gil returned his attention to Judy. “I’ll take care of things on the Stanford end, as much as I can, but I hadn’t thought about banking and such. Thanks—shoot. Don’t know what to call you guys anymore.”

Judy smiled in spite of herself. “You’re welcome to call us ‘Mom and Dad’ if you like. Or if you’d rather for now, ‘Uncle Adam and Aunt Judy’ is still fine.”

That eased a little more tension, and Gil smiled more easily. “Thanks, Aunt Judy.” Then his smile faded, and the tension increased again. “But that’s... that’s not all that’s happened,” he admitted and put his left hand on the arm of the couch, giving both Adam and Judy a clear view of the black mark on his left ring finger.

Wings like his father bore. A trilobite like Agatha’s grandmother bore.

Judy’s heart raced. “You got a—”

“We _didn’t_ , Mom,” Agatha insisted.

“It happened this morning,” Gil explained. “We kissed precisely at sunrise. Before, there was nothing, and now... we’re like _this_.” And as he looked at Agatha again, Judy got the sense that he wasn’t just talking about the marriage mark.

 _You mean this?_ Adam asked and pointed to the spider lily.

“Among other things.” Gil hesitated and sighed. “Maybe I should just show you. Uncle Adam, would you....” He held out his left hand.

Adam glanced at Judy in surprise and took Gil’s hand. Gil took a deep breath and let it out again... and then both his eyes and his hand pulsed with green light, which shot up Adam’s arm, over his shoulder, and across his throat. It hovered there for a moment before sinking in, glowing through the skin and brightening briefly before fading.

“What did you do?” asked a bass voice—and Judy and Agatha jumped, because it had come out of Adam’s mouth. Adam looked just as startled as anyone.

“Dad?” Agatha gasped.

“I can... speak?” Adam felt of his throat, and his eyes widened. “I can... I can _speak!_ ”

“ _Adam!_ ” Judy cried joyfully as Agatha planted a big kiss on Gil’s cheek, making him blush and three blossoms open on the spider lily. “Gil, _thank you!_ ”

“Wish everything were that useful,” Gil murmured, releasing Adam’s hand in favor of rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, you can fly,” Agatha teased. “I call that pretty useful.”

“Maybe. I don’t know how _far_. Not exactly a reason to drop my pilot’s license.”

“And you’re pyrokinetic.”

“In a limited way, sure.”

“Best be careful you don’t burn down the house,” Adam joked.

But Gil grimaced. “That was one reason we left town last night. I was afraid I might. I think I’ve got better control over it now, though, but... I-I don’t know why it’s happening, where it’s all coming from. And then... then there’s Agatha.”

Adam and Judy looked at each other and chorused, “What about Agatha?”

Gil swallowed hard and looked at Agatha, and tiny, barely perceptible flashes of light danced in both of their eyes for a moment before he reached up with his right hand and began massaging the back of her scalp while rubbing the tender skin on the inside of her left wrist with his left thumb. She squirmed a little, and a bud popped open on the spider lily.

“Gil,” she squeaked quietly, “not in front....”

“Just give me a—” he murmured before giving her a tiny peck on the shell of her ear.

“Not in front of Mom and Daaa—”

She inhaled sharply as he cut her off with a firmer kiss just below her jaw, her eyes widening and flaring corner to corner with blue-white light, whereupon the spider lily opened three more buds and sent up five new bloom stalks and the Christmas cactus exploded into blossom like a firecracker. And Judy’s heart leapt into her throat.

“Stopping now,” Gil said and put his hands back where they had been. “Sorry, darling.”

Agatha blushed and scrubbed at her neck, her eyes fading back to normal. “You could have picked a better... Mom? What’s wrong?”

“It’s true,” Judy breathed, tears stinging her eyes. “Oh, dear Lord... it’s all true. Agatha, I—I’m so sorry, I should have—I-I didn’t _want_ to believe—” She grabbed a tissue from the box Adam handed her and struggled for a moment to regain her composure.

Agatha frowned and leaned forward. “Mom?”

Judy drew a deep, ragged breath, dabbed at her eyes, and looked at Gil first. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about your family, Gil. Particularly your mother. Klaus met her in Vietnam; I don’t know anything beyond that. Whatever secrets he has... you’ll have to ask him.”

Gil nodded, looking worried. “Okay. But?”

“But I do know something about what might be happening to Agatha. And dear, I’m... I’m terribly sorry I’ve never said anything about this before. Maybe if I had... things would have been different.”

Adam frowned in concern. “Now you’ve got _me_ worried.”

“Is... this about my mother?” Agatha ventured. “’Cause we already know she was a witch.”

Judy shook her head. “No. I mean, yes, Lucrezia was a witch—a _born_ witch, if the stories are true. That might... account for some things, if her affinity for magic was inheritable. No, I, uh... I mean your father’s family.”

Agatha blinked. “The Sanderses?”

“Not... exactly.” Judy took a deep breath. “The day she died, your Grandma Teodora told me some things. She didn’t want Bill or Barry to know, but she said her grandchildren might need the knowledge. I didn’t quite believe it all at the time. But now....” She burst into tears in spite of herself. “I should have told Bill! Maybe I could have saved his life!”

“Shhh,” Adam said gently, rubbing Judy’s arm. “You couldn’t know. Just tell us now.”

Judy struggled for composure again and nodded jerkily when she thought she could speak again. “Peter Sanders... Agatha, he... he wasn’t your grandfather. Not... not by blood.”

Agatha’s eyes widened. “What?”

Judy held up a hand. “No, he—he adopted... Bill and Barry, and he loved them, but he... they were born before... before he married Teodora. Sh-sh-she wasn’t unfaithful. Ever.” She took another shuddering breath. “After World War I... Teodora was... I guess the word is blackmailed into marrying the son of a man who’d held her father captive. She was German; her father’s family, I think, must have come from Russia. Anyway. Her first husband was Romanian, from a little town in Transylvania called Mekkhan.” She paused for breath again, deeper and steadier this time. “His name was Saturn Heterodyne. She was pregnant with Barry when she left him. And she left because... oh, I’m so sorry, Agatha... she left because she had evidence he was a Gestapo collaborator and had volunteered to oversee the extermination of the Jews in Cluj.”

Agatha gasped.

Judy held up a hand again. “That was the part I believed. And it was easy to verify because after the war, Saturn Heterodyne was convicted of war crimes and executed. It wasn’t until after his execution that your grandmother married Mr. Sanders and moved to Mechanicsburg.”

Gil hugged Agatha closer, and she threaded the fingers of her left hand through the fingers of his left hand. “What was the part you didn’t believe?” she asked quietly.

Judy took another deep breath. “The reason Saturn Heterodyne was willing to do such things was that Mekkhan is—or was then—one of the last strongholds of old-school paganism. The village is built around a spring that’s sacred to a battle goddess sometimes known as Dynamis. Her temple is a site of human sacrifice. And Agatha....” Her voice broke again, and she closed her eyes and sniffled, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“What, Mom?” Agatha prompted.

“She’s your great-grandmother.”

Three, two, one—“WHAT?!” three voices chorused.

Judy nodded but didn’t open her eyes. “Multiple times, actually, going back a thousand years. Teodora said the goddess marries back into the family every time she thinks the line’s getting weak. And it’s worse than that. Saturn was involved with some occult society that pushed him to strengthen his divine side and actually worshipped him. He even started drinking more and more of the water from his mother’s spring, which has strange properties and is supposed to kill anyone outside the family who drinks it. And it took multiple rituals, including sacrifices and baths in the spring, for them to even conceive Bill and Barry.”

Gil sounded horrified when he began, “What that must have done to their DNA....”

“Lord, have mercy,” Adam whispered. “ _That’s_ what Barry was afraid of.”

Judy squeaked an affirmative and started crying all over again.

After a long moment’s silence, Gil said, “Well, that explains some things.”

“It does,” Agatha agreed. “It was so weird how—I mean, I’d never felt any charge or anything from water before, but... but the rain, the waterfall, the pool... I just felt _drawn_ to it, and when I was in it, it was... such a _rush_.”

“Maybe because they were natural sources and we were so far from people. Plus that side of things being so much closer to the surface now.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe so. And then... with the cave, the rocks....”

“Yeah, earth might be another of your elements, since a spring....”

“Comes from underground, right.”

“So... I guess mine are fire and air. What with flying and... all that.”

“Yeah, that fits. Doesn’t explain Zoing, though.”

“No, but it does explain why he’s always liked _you_.”

“No, I’m fresh water. He’s salt water.”

Judy laughed at that in spite of herself. Wiping her face, she finally dared to open her eyes to find Agatha leaning more heavily against Gil. “I’m so sorry, pumpkin,” Judy whispered.

Agatha shook her head. “Mom, you didn’t _know_. All you had was Grandma Teodora’s word, and... well, I don’t know if _I’d_ believe it if we hadn’t....” She trailed off, glancing up at Gil and blushing slightly, then cleared her throat. “And! And you gave me that hex bag, which—oh, no.”

Gil started. “You haven’t _lost_ it?”

“No, no, it’s in my purse. It’s just—with all _this_....” Agatha gestured toward the spider lily. “The way it’s followed us back from Missouri, if somebody’s looking....”

Gil extricated himself from the cuddle, pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket, speed-dialed a number, put it on speakerphone, and set the phone on the coffee table while it rang.

“Y’know, that thing must have _great_ EM shielding,” Agatha observed.

Gil snorted in amusement, but before he could reply, a male voice answered the phone with a drawl of “Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”

“Ash,” Gil began. “Gil Wulfenbach.”

“Hey, _compadre!_ How was date night?” Judy imagined this Ash character waggling his eyebrows after that question.

“It... went,” Gil replied, blushing and rubbing the back of his neck. “FYI, you’re on speaker.”

“Oh. _Looo siento, amigo_. So what’s up?”

“Got a research question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Need you to check some Romanian birth records for me.”

“Awright.” There was a sound like someone typing on a computer. “Whatcha need?”

“Looking for anyone with the last name of Heterodyne born after 1945. Place of birth is either Cluj or Mekkhan.”

“How you spell that last’n?”

“Wild guess: Mike-Echo-Kilo-Kilo-Hotel-Alpha-November.” Gil looked questioningly at Judy, who shrugged; she’d never seen it written down, either.

Another pause for typing and several audible mouse clicks followed before Ash stated, “Wild guess is on the money, Wolfman. I got a Neptune Heterodyne, son o’—izzat _Ominox_ an’ _Dynamis?!_ ’Swhat it looks like—born in Mekkhan, Transylvania, December 5, 1946. An’ his son Klaus Heterodyne, same hometown, born September 8, 1981... an’ _his_ son—oh, now, that is _messed up_.”

“What is?” Gil and Agatha asked at the same time.

“This kid’s name is Adolf Josef Heinrich.”

Agatha shuddered.

“Yeah, well, there was at least one full-fledged Nazi in the family history,” Gil noted. “So when was he born?”

“Last August,” Ash reported. “’S’at whatcha need?”

“That’s what I need. Thanks, man.”

“Hey, _no problemo, compadre_. You gonna be back today?”

“I dunno yet. May have to go to Sioux Falls, do some research.”

“Awright. I’ll let Ellen know, then. _Hasta potato_.” And Ash hung up.

“ _Hasta_ potato?!” Judy echoed.

Gil rolled his eyes. “He’s a redneck.”

“So,” Agatha said, settling back, “the goddess has re-established the family line. So no one should be looking for me for _that_ reason.”

“That doesn’t mean no one’s looking for you at all,” Adam noted. “Your grandmother drowned on dry land. And we still don’t know what’s happened to Barry.”

“But by the same token,” Judy cautioned, “we don’t know that anyone is looking for you. The goddess did threaten to kill Teodora if she ever betrayed Saturn, but that’s no reason to assume she would want kill off the rest of you. And in fact, Bill was killed by Lucrezia—although... huh.”

“What?” Gil and Agatha asked.

“Barry said Lucrezia’s coven was invoking some sort of goddess, and they were very excited that she’d had a daughter by Bill. If Lucrezia somehow found out about Bill’s background....”

“She might have killed Mrs. Sanders in hopes of gaining the goddess’ favor,” Gil suggested. “If Mrs. Sanders had a hex bag like Agatha’s, nothing supernatural should have been able to find her, but that doesn’t mean a human couldn’t.”

“But we don’t even know if that worked,” Agatha pointed out.

“No, we don’t, but I bet that’s part of what your uncle was investigating. And now I’m wondering how much of that _Dad_ knows. He’s said a few times recently that he thought he might have a lead on where Barry is.”

“Well, we need to ask him about your side of things anyway.”

“Yeah, but... he said absolute radio silence until Saturday. I don’t even know where he _is_.”

“He’s your _father_ ,” Agatha said quietly, putting a hand on Gil’s shoulder. “Can’t you....” She broke off as the tiny flashes in both their eyes began again, and Judy wondered whether they’d become mind-linked somehow.

After a moment, Gil took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and Agatha put the marriage certificate back in her purse and slid the purse strap over her shoulder. His brow furrowed deeper and deeper in concentration until it became a full-fledged scowl, his breath coming in shorter, harsher pants, and then he shook his head jerkily and grimaced.

“... wards,” he gritted out. “Can’t....”

Agatha took his hand again, and the lines on his face eased somewhat, as did his breathing.

“Got him,” he murmured after another moment and stood, eyes still closed.

Agatha stood with him and stepped into his arms... and in a blue-green flash, they were gone, only the state of the plants remaining to indicate that they’d ever been there.

“ _Well_ ,” Adam sighed.

—okay, not _only_ the state of the plants.

“That was... that was....” Judy honestly didn’t know _what_ she was trying to say.

 _Coffee?_ he signed.

She nodded. _Please._

He started to get up, but paused. _Something I want tell you. Want tell you long time._

She looked at him, worried. “What?”

He knelt in front of her chair, took both her hands in his left, caressed her cheek with his right, and smiled gently. “I love you, Judy.”

Sobbing, she fell forward into his arms and hugged him with all her might.

* * *

A sudden knock at the motel room door startled Klaus Wulfenbach awake. He had his Desert Eagle aimed at the door before he recognized the pattern as Gil’s code. “How the hell...” he murmured and got up to check through the peephole.

“C’mon, Dad,” Gil’s voice said through the door. “It’s me. Open up.”

Warily, Klaus opened the door partway to find Gil _and Agatha_ standing outside and no car besides his own in the parking lot beyond them. The lack of car was explicable, probably; his son’s presence, particularly with girlfriend in tow, was not. “What part of—”

“Dad,” Gil interrupted, holding up his left hand just long enough for Klaus to see the marriage mark—wings _and trilobite_ —before said hand was entirely engulfed in flames. Startled, Klaus looked at his son’s face, which sported glowing green eyes, just as Gil stated, “We need to talk.”

Klaus took a deep breath. “Yes. We certainly do. Come in.”

Gil extinguished his hand as Klaus undid the burglar chain, but it was Agatha who stepped cautiously over the salt line first and accepted a drink of holy water from Klaus’ silver flask. Yet the second Gil followed her, the ‘fresh-cut’ flowers on the table that Housekeeping hadn’t replaced since Klaus’ arrival the week before suddenly not only looked extremely fresh but also sent out new buds that opened within seconds. And Klaus knew he was not prepared for this conversation in the slightest.

“So,” he began as soon as Gil had passed the holy-water-and-silver test as well. “I take it you two have something to tell me.”

“Considering that yesterday I married a demigoddess and today we can _teleport_ ,” Gil retorted, crossing his arms, “I take it _you_ have something to tell _me_.”

Klaus blinked and looked at Agatha. “Demi....”

She nodded. “I’m a Heterodyne. But we’re actually here about Gil. Did you know he has wings?”

Nope. Not prepared at _all_. “I... think we’d better sit down.”


	2. The Little Hint of a Trace

“It’s not fair,” Sam Winchester grouched.

“Life’s not fair,” his brother Dean shot back.

“Gil got to graduate from Beetleburg.”

“And I didn’t get to graduate at _all_.” As Dean steered his ’67 Chevy Impala through the gate of Singer Salvage Yard at the outskirts of Sioux Falls, he tamped down hard on the sudden impulse to just chuck Sam out at Bobby Singer’s house and go back into town to hit the bars and see if he could set a new personal record for the number of times he could score in one night. If Sammy was being a pain about Dad’s decision _now_ , he’d be absolutely insufferable if Dean ditched him this soon.

“I’m just saying, he could have let _me_ finish in Beetleburg, or Blue Earth, or someplace I have actual _friends_. Why do I have to finish in Sioux Falls?”

“Because the Clays don’t have room for us, Dad doesn’t want us at the Roadhouse, and he still doesn’t want _you_ around Violetta, that’s why.”

Sam huffed.

“Look, you’re _damn_ lucky Gil and I managed to talk Dad into letting you stay in one town for your last quarter _and_ go to Stanford this fall in the first place. And the only reason we did manage it is that Bobby said you and I could stay here and help him with research until you move to Palo Alto.”

“I could have done the same thing with Pastor Jim.”

“And Dad woulda spent the entire time worried that Violetta would snap and slit your throat in the middle of the night ’cause of all that growin’ up with the Mafia junk.”

“Deeean....”

“I’m not sayin’ it makes any sense. Dad quit makin’ sense to me three years ago. I’m just tellin’ you, that’s how it is.” Dean knew full well that Dad’s attitude toward Violetta Mondarev was irrational; Jim Murphy had adopted her nine years ago, so she’d spent more time in his care than in the abusive clutches of the Sturmvoraus family. And she had spent seven of those nine years as the most cheerful, most faithful altar girl at Sacrament Lutheran. But if Pastor Jim, who saw her every day, couldn’t convince Dad that Violetta was okay, there was no way Dean could.

“Violetta is the second best sparring partner I’ve ever had—”

“Dammit, Sammy, _shut up!_ We’re here.” Getting drunk and getting laid was sounding better every second, but Dean was _not_ going to ditch Sam tonight, no matter how tempted he was. He parked in his usual spot behind the house and shut off the engine, and suddenly what Sam had said registered. He turned to his right with a question that might change his mind: “Who’s the best?”

Sam shot him an annoyed glare, then hunkered down in his seat even further. “... you.”

“Awww,” Dean said with a grin and ruffled Sam’s hair. No, he wouldn’t ditch his little brother after all, not tonight.

Sam batted Dean’s hand away, but before they could get into a slap fight, Bobby came out of his workshop, so the brothers got out of the car, closing their doors behind them at exactly the same moment. The air outside was surprisingly warm, and the birds seemed to be singing louder than usual.

“Damn, boy,” Bobby said, coming over to give Sam a hug. “Don’t you ever stop growin’?”

Sam actually laughed and hugged Bobby at that. “Not until I’m taller than Dean, I won’t.”

“Says you,” Dean jibed. “Hi, Bobby. Thanks for puttin’ us up.”

Bobby snorted. “Puttin’ up with you, y’mean, idjit.” He let go of Sam and hugged Dean. “You boys go on in. I gotta finish rebuildin’ this carburetor ’fore quittin’ time, but supper should be ready here in a few minutes.”

“Need my help?”

“Nah, I can get it, son. Ain’t but a few parts left to put together.”

“All right. Holler if you do need me.”

The brothers went back to the car to grab their bags, paused to give Rumsfeld their usual hello scritches, then let themselves into the house, where some _really_ good smells were coming from the kitchen. They dropped their duffles by the hall table near the stairs and went to investigate—and the strawberry blonde at the stove came as a total surprise.

“Agatha!” Sam called, delighted.

Agatha, in the middle of stirring something, turned as far as she could to smile at them. “Hi, guys! Uncle Bobby said you were coming!”

“Heya, cuz,” Dean replied, walking up to give her a side hug and take over stirring for her so she could hug Sam. “What is this stuff? Smells great.”

“Goulash,” Agatha answered and gave Sam his hug. “And there’s cherry pie for dessert, plus a few other things. They’re all still in the oven.”

“Wow!”

“Well, Uncle Bobby said he didn’t know what he wanted for supper, and I... kinda needed to stress bake.”

“Did you get your eyes lasered?” Sam asked, and Dean suddenly noticed that she wasn’t wearing her glasses. In fact... huh. Her eyes had some brown spots now.

“Not exactly,” Agatha answered and took the spoon back from Dean. “It’s a pretty long story.”

Dean found himself frowning a little. “I thought Gil was at your place. Did your folks bring you up here? Didn’t see his car.”

“No, I... I came with Gil. And we... didn’t exactly drive.” The brown spots in Agatha’s eyes sparkled green and blue for a moment. “He’s out front, Dean. He wants to talk to you.”

“Oh. All right. Thanks.”

Dean gave her a peck on the temple and went out the front door to find Gil sitting on the porch steps with his head in his hands, steadfastly ignoring the dozen or so sparrows that were standing around his feet and all chirping at once. They flew off when Dean approached, however, and that prompted Gil to drop his hands and look up.

“Hi,” Gil said.

“Hey,” Dean replied and sat down to Gil’s left. “Agatha said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yeah, I think you’re about the only person in the world I feel safe asking this question.”

Dean blinked. “Shoot.”

“When you have sex....”

 _—oh, boy, this is awkward—_ Dean thought.

“... how does it affect your soul?”

“... what?”

“I-I don’t mean, like, how it affects you spiritually whenever you have a one-night stand or whatever. I mean, during the act itself, do... do your souls ever touch?”

Dean blinked several times. “Dude, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Well, maybe I can....” Gil raised his right hand a little, then hesitated. “Uh, this—I—I can show you what I mean, but it’s not, like—you’re my best friend, and I don’t want—”

“Just do it, will you?” Dean interrupted before the conversation could get any more uncomfortable.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Gil blew the air out of his cheeks. “Okay.”

He held his right hand in front of Dean’s chest... and then it _glowed_ , and Dean felt something brush... not his physical heart, but the inmost core of his being. It was super brief and super gentle and not sexual at all, but it was still the most intimate thing he’d ever experienced, and he couldn’t help gasping and shying away a little.

“What the hell was _that?_ ” he demanded.

“So you’ve never felt that before?”

“No.”

Gil sighed, nodded, and looked out over the salvage yard again. “That’s what I thought.”

Dean rubbed at his chest a little, although he didn’t know why. “How did you even....”

Gil shot him a strange look. “Dean, I’ve _always_ known where your soul is.”

“O-kay. How?”

Gil sighed again and scrubbed at his face with his left hand, giving Dean a good glimpse of the new tattoo on his ring finger. “It’s a long story, and I really don’t know where to start.”

“What happened? Did you and Ags....”

“We got married yesterday.”

Normally, an announcement like that would be cause for celebration, especially for a couple like these two, but Gil said it in such a flat, exhausted tone that Dean didn’t know how to respond. Plus, part of him was more than a little hurt to be finding out this way; he’d always assumed he’d be the first person Gil would invite to his wedding.

What came out was, “Oh. Uh. Awesome?”

“Yeah. It was spur of the moment, just the two of us, went to the courthouse. Still gonna have a church wedding on June 21.” Gil looked at Dean then. “Be my best man?”

That eased Dean’s heart some. “Yeah, ’course. Me an’ who else?”

“Hadn’t gotten that far yet, but... probably you, Ardsley, Tarvek, and Theo.”

“Sure, sounds good. But we are _not_ letting Theo plan the bachelor party, or we’ll all get blitzed.”

The corners of Gil’s mouth twitched upward.

Dean waited a moment before pressing, “Gil, what _happened?_ ”

Gil sighed again, more heavily. “Did you ever meet Cody Senear?”

“I don’t think... wait, is he the son of that aeroapes guy?”

“Yeah.”

“No, never met him, but I know who you’re talkin’ about.”

“He’s been trying to bully Agatha into going with him to prom. He was calling something like three or four times an _hour_ —and before you get too mad, I already blew up his phone.”

“ _Good_.” Agatha might be only Dean’s third cousin, and only by adoption, but _nobody_ messed with Dean’s family.

“Anyway, by the time I got to the Clays’ house, she was really upset, and we....” Gil sighed yet again. “I dunno. Guess we just lost our heads. I proposed; she said yes; we got married. And I _don’t_ regret that,” he added quickly. “We probably would have gotten married this summer anyway. That’s not the problem. It’s... everything that’s been happening since.”

“Like?”

“This.” Gil held out his hands... and they burst into flame, startling Dean. “That’s how it started, anyway,” Gil added, and the flames went out. “We were kissing, and... poof.”

“So where’d you go for your wedding night?”

“You remember when we went camping in the Ozarks that one time? That cave behind the waterfall that you tried to call Henneth Annûn, except it faces east instead of west?”

Not only did Dean remember the camping trip, he remembered Dad telling him later that three or four ley lines converged in that cave. But to cover his unease, all he said was, “You went _camping_ in _this_ weather?”

“I know, I know! Like I said, we just... dude, we _lost it_. We got out there; it started raining; we got struck by lightning—”

“WHAT?!”

“No, we’re fine, honest. And yeah, we went all the way, and it was... it was pretty mind-blowing. But all this _weird_ stuff kept happening. Like, the first time, we were floating in mid-air....”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“And then our souls merged, and then... and this morning, Agatha insisted on going swimming and... have you ever had sex at the bottom of a lake?”

“ _No_ , ’cause I’m human and I’d _drown_.”

Gil snorted. “Yeah, well.”

“You— _seriously?!_ How the hell—”

“Temporary gills. Look, I don’t _know_ ,” Gil continued as Dean’s mouth fell open. “Like I said, crazy stuff. Then we kissed exactly at sunrise, and now we’ve got _these_ ”—Gil waved his left hand—“and she’s got a copy of this one”—he tapped his anti-possession tat—“and we’re mind-linked and we can teleport and... and....”

As he trailed off, a vine shot out of the soil beside the porch, grew about six feet up the side of the house, and stuck out leaves that to Dean’s untrained eye looked like rose leaves of some kind.

“And _that_ ,” Gil continued, pointing at the vine without looking at it. “That keeps happening, and you saw the birds, and if I can’t get a handle on it, I’m gonna be walking around campus like a literal damn _Disney princess_.” He huffed. “And then we talked to her parents and my dad, and....” He trailed off again.

“And?” Dean prompted.

Gil took a deep breath. “Agatha’s biological great-grandmother is some Transylvanian battle goddess who lives in a spring. And my _mother_ is apparently a guardian spirit of the Green Hmong—Dean, I’m... I’m half- _fae!_ ” He buried his face in his hands again. “And neither one of us knows what we’re capable of or how to control all the things we _do_ know about, and Bobby’s not even sure where to start looking, and... and....”

“It’s just been a hell of a day,” Dean concluded for him.

Gil huffed and dropped his hands but kept staring down toward the foot of the stairs. “Yeah.” After a pause, he asked, “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“What for?”

“I’m... I’m... I’m not....”

“Dude, I don’t care _what_ your mom is. You’re my best friend. You _saved my life_. Why the hell should I kill you just ’cause you’re only half human?”

“Oh, thank God,” Gil sighed, and his shoulders slumped in relief.

Dean stared at him. “You seriously thought....”

“Dude, we both know what your dad’s like. And you have no idea how badly this whole thing has messed with my head. _And_ Agatha’s—turns out her biological grandfather was a Nazi.”

Dean let out a low whistle.

“Yeah.”

Dean took a deep breath and let it out again. “All right, all right, back up. How many times did you two have sex last night?”

Gil blushed a little, and about half a dozen little pink roses opened on the vine behind him. “Four, counting this morning; that was before sunrise.”

“Geez. Cold.”

“Tell me about it. _During_ , it wasn’t so much, but before and after... yeah.”

“And the first time was in mid-air, you said. Then what?”

“Well, I’m not sure what happened, but we wound up at the back of the cave. Next round was back there, and then we went back and, uh... stayed next to the fire for a while.”

“And were any of these around midnight?”

“Hell, I dunno, maybe. Not like I looked at my watch.” Gil scrubbed at his eyes with his right hand.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that a virgin demigoddess and a virgin half-fae got married on the _vernal equinox_....”

Gil froze.

“... went out to a cave full of ley lines....”

Gil shot Dean a sidelong look.

“... and had sex once each in _air, earth, fire, and water?_ ”

Gil groaned and ran both hands over his face. “That explains a whole _hell_ of a lot.”

“That is some _serious_ mojo, dude.”

“You’re telling me. Man, I... I can’t believe that never registered ’til just now. But that explains all of _this_ ”—Gil waved a hand toward the vine, which put out another dozen roses—“and all our powers unlocking and... why it was so hard to put on the brakes. I mean, not like we _tried_ all that much; we probably could have if we’d wanted to. But we both kept saying things like ‘We _need_ to,’ ‘We _have_ to,’ and just... running on blind instinct. Yes, we could have said no, but... it would have been incredibly hard. I would have had to leave town, and even then... I don’t know that I could have stayed gone overnight.” He paused. “Oh, good grief, that’s why we both said June 21 when Aunt Judy asked for a date for the church wedding.”

“Midsummer.”

“Yeah.”

“Think you should change it?”

Gil grimaced. “Not unless Agatha wants to. We can just... be super careful about where we go on our honeymoon, like, I dunno, out in the wilds of Alaska or something.”

Dean snorted in amusement. “What about this soul merge thing you were talking about? Is it like....” He rubbed his chest again, the echo of that brief touch still resonating achingly in some hollow part of him.

Gil nodded. “Yeah, but it’s way more intense. I mean, physical union is one thing, and I know you get that, but this other... there just aren’t words. It’s like we literally become one being, like a... I dunno... singular _us_? I really don’t know how to describe it.”

“Can you have sex without doing it?”

Gil blushed. “Yeah, probably. Not that we’ve tried yet.”

“Can you do it when you’re _not_ having sex?” When Gil raised his eyebrows, Dean threw up his hands. “I’m just curious.”

Gil made a considering face, and his eyes did the sparkly thing for a moment before Agatha came outside.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Dean wants to see merge,” Gil explained, standing up. When she blushed, he added, “No, not like—I mean, _without_.”

“Oh. Uh, okay, we can try.”

As Dean turned to watch, Gil walked up to Agatha; his eyes started glowing green, and hers started glowing blue. They hugged each other, closed their eyes, relaxed... and suddenly _dissolved_ into a six-foot swirling column of blue-green light with a ball of bright white light at its core, about mid-chest height and pulsing slightly like a heartbeat.

“Whoa,” Dean breathed, awed.

The light held its form long enough for the rose vine to be almost completely covered in blossoms, both newly opened and full. Then the core separated into two balls that orbited each other closely for two or three revolutions before drifting apart; one drew the blue light after it, and the other drew the green light. Two separate, steady columns formed, and a second or two later they solidified into Gil and Agatha, still hugging but facing the opposite direction.

“That was beautiful,” Dean said as they broke the embrace. “Thanks for showing me.”

“Did it look like much?” Agatha asked shyly.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. It was just... light. Hard to describe, but it looked really cool.”

Agatha blushed and looked up at Gil. “Supper’s almost ready. Are you coming in?”

Gil nodded. “In a minute. Still need to talk over a couple of things.”

“Okay.” She kissed him and went back inside.

“Thanks for asking,” Gil told Dean and came over to sit down again. “Now that we know, it might come in handy. I mean, sex is one thing, like I said, and so’s cuddling, but it’s... kind of nice to know we don’t _have_ to get physical.”

Even as he nodded, Dean couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy that Agatha got to share such a state with Gil and Dean didn’t. Not that he was jealous of their marriage, except insofar as he wasn’t married and wanted to be; he’d known pretty much all along that Gil and Agatha would get together, and he was glad they finally had. But, well... Gil was Dean’s _bro_ , in every way but blood, the best friend he’d ever had besides Sammy. And even though Dean was an honorary member of the Adventure Club and had gone to hang out with them every chance he got, and even though he talked to Gil nearly as often as Agatha did, it still wasn’t the same as the six years and change they’d spent in each other’s back pockets. He _missed_ Gil... and that hollow place he’d never noticed before ached worse than ever now that he’d seen what he could never have.

“So, uh,” he began in an attempt to cover that was probably ruined by his rubbing his chest again, “when... when you touched... what’d it feel like?”

“What did what—you mean your soul?”

“Yeah.”

Gil thought a moment. “Scarred. And kind of grimy—but only on the surface,” he added with a slight smile.

Dean stopped rubbing. “Huh. How do you clean a soul?” he wondered aloud.

Gil raised one eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Don’t even start.”

“You brought it up!”

“You know my answer, and you know why.”

“Yes, I know. I’m just saying, you might want to reconsider—and you might want to do it soon.”

“Okay, _if_ there’s a God, why the hell would he care about me?”

Gil smiled. “Hey, he cares about me, and I’m not even human.”

“ _Dude_.”

“Okay, half human.”

Dean huffed and rolled his eyes.

“But no, seriously, Dean. That’s why I’m still out here. There’s something else you need to know.”

“About you?”

“No, about yourself.”

Dean frowned. “Myself? You mean my soul?”

“Not really. I mean, there’s some sort of connection there between you and Sam, but I didn’t stick around long enough to investigate. I hadn’t been _planning_ to do more than... what I did, and it’s a good thing I was ready to pull back right away.”

Dean’s frown deepened. “What, you mean you can... you can _merge_ with me?”

Gil held up a hand. “I’m not sure, and I’m not going to try unless I have to _and_ I have your permission. And no, I don’t think you’re anything but human. But... I don’t really know how I know this or why I’ve never sensed it before, but there’s something else going on with you, and it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Well, try.” Dean didn’t know why he felt uneasy; hadn’t he just been thinking he wanted to merge with Gil?

Gil rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “There’s... there’s lore that says the Fair Folk were originally angels, but they didn’t take sides when Lucifer rebelled. They weren’t bad enough to deserve Hell, but God couldn’t let them stay in Heaven, so he cast them down to live on Earth until Doomsday.”

“So?”

“There’s something in your system—not your soul; in your blood—that registered me not as fae but as angel. And when you said ‘yes’ to my touching your soul, it registered that as permission to... I’m not even sure ‘merge’ is the right word. But whatever this thing is, it tried to _pull me in_.”

Dean blinked. “What are you saying?”

Gil sighed and thought for a moment. “Blaise Pascal talks about the God-shaped hole in each one of us—and I’m not preaching, honest. It’s the idea that every human is hard-wired for relationship with God, and nothing else can truly fill that void. You, apparently, are also hard-wired to play host to an angel.”

“There’s no such thing.”

“Yeah, I know why you think that. We have _had_ that conversation. I’m just telling you what I found.”

“So what, you think some angel’s gonna show up wantin’ to wear _me_ to the prom?”

“I don’t know how imminent the danger is. If hunter lore says angels don’t exist, there has to be a reason. But I’m telling you for two reasons. One, it’s in your blood and not your soul.”

“Meaning?”

“You can resist.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, hell, look at Agatha. Descended from a pagan goddess, grandfather’s a Nazi, mother’s a witch—and she’s a leader in the LCMS youth group and goes to every Disciple Now the Baptist church hosts.”

Dean conceded the point with a tilt of his head. “What’s the other reason?”

“If it’s in your blood, it’s probably also in Sam’s.”

All Dean’s own longings vanished in light of his life’s Prime Directive: _Look after Sammy_. “Keep talking.”

* * *

“So maybe I’m like you, then,” Sam suggested as Agatha set a bowl of goulash and a plate of rolls in front of him.

She shook her head and went back to the stove to get her own food. “I don’t think so. You’d probably know by now if you were.”

“How? My dad never tells me anything.”

“Neither does Uncle Klaus, and my mom wasn’t even _sure_ what was going on with me. But looking back on it now, it’s so obvious. Like the freak thunderstorms when I get super upset—not every time, but often enough. And with Gil... I mean, by our age, Gil already knew how to heal and stuff.” She set her bowl on the table but paused and went back to the stove again. “Plus, the day we all met... I felt this _jolt_ when I shook hands with Gil. Now I realize it was our divine sides connecting. I didn’t feel anything of the sort from you or Dean. And if it _is_ something inherited, wouldn’t it be affecting Dean, too?”

That last point had never occurred to Sam. “Huh. Yeah, it probably would. But if it’s not that, then... what is it?”

The blue and green sparkles danced across Agatha’s eyes as she brought another bowl to the table, and the front door opened and closed again. “I honestly don’t know, Sam,” she said. “All I do know for sure is that it feels a lot more like what my mother tried to do to me.”

“You mean, like a curse?” Dean asked, walking in from the hall with Gil behind him. “Blood magic?”

Agatha shrugged. “I can’t be sure, but I think so.”

“That’s actually something of a relief,” Gil stated and went to the stove to help Agatha.

“How so?!” Sam and Dean chorused.

“Curses can be broken,” Gil and Agatha replied.

Sam floundered for a response. “But... but... why me?! If there’s nothing inherent in our family—”

“Actually, there is, Squirt,” Dean interrupted and sat down. “Gil found somethin’ in my blood, says it makes us... I dunno... suitable to house angels.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “You mean, like... like... _possession?!_ ”

“I can’t be sure,” Gil cautioned. “But that’s probably the closest analogy. The main difference, as far as I can tell, is that an angel would have to get permission to enter you.”

Suddenly, Sam didn’t feel so hungry anymore. “Then the curse must be trying to warp that part of my nature. Isn’t that what Lucrezia tried to do to you?”

“Probably,” Agatha agreed. “We’d have to ask Tarvek. I’m sure he hasn’t told us all he knows yet.”

Sam looked at Dean. “That must be why Dad’s gotten so weird lately. If he knows or... or suspects....”

“You haven’t exactly been helping matters much yourself,” Dean noted.

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but then he thought twice about the source of the rage he felt and huffed. “How much of that comes from the curse, I wonder?”

“I dunno. Dunno if Dad knows. But I do know that he’ll never tell us, even if we ask him straight out. But if this is a curse, now you know, so you can fight it while we look for a cure.”

“And what if there isn’t one? What if—I mean, the curse on Agatha’s locket couldn’t be broken except by destroying it.”

“Now, let’s not go jumpin’ to conclusions here,” Bobby said, shoving his handkerchief into his pocket as he walked into the kitchen. His eyes looked red, like he’d been crying. “There’s a whole lotta curse types out there, and ain’t many cain’t be broken at all. John’s been doin’ a lot more research lately, followin’ up leads, but he ain’t told me what all he’s found. Seems to me, though, ’less’n it’s actively causin’ you problems like Lucrezia’s curse was causin’ Agatha, best thing is not to worry, finish your schoolin’, an’ let me an’ your daddy an’ brother see what we can find out for you.”

Sam sighed and nodded. “Guess you’re right. Thanks, Bobby.”

“Are you all right, Uncle Bobby?” Agatha asked.

Bobby sniffled a little. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just... missin’ my wife. Where were you kids thirty years ago when I needed you?” he half-teased.

Gil managed a slight chuckle.

“Maybe we should go,” said Agatha.

Bobby shook his head. “That’s up to you, darlin’. Don’t you fret none; I’m just a silly ol’ man. And I ’preciate your fixin’ supper for me.”

Gil put his hand between Agatha’s shoulder blades and rubbed a little as they looked at each other and the sparkles flashed again. Then Agatha nodded, and Gil said, “We’ll stay. Thanks, Bobby.”

“Oughta thank you two for one other thing,” Bobby said as the Wulfenbachs served themselves and came back to the table. “Ain’t seen those roses you stirred up in about forty years. My mama planted ’em ’fore I was born; I thought my daddy’d killed ’em all for good. Karen never could get anything to take in those flowerbeds.”

Agatha blushed a little. “It’s been kind of embarrassing, but... I hope the blessing lasts for you.”

Bobby chuckled. “’Spect the embarrassin’ part’ll fade here in a week or two.”

“Might come back after the church wedding, though,” Gil warned her.

She blinked. “Why would— _ohhh_ , summer solstice!” she groaned, and her blush deepened.

“If you want, we can—”

“No, no, it’ll probably happen then anyway, and it might happen every year, at least for a while. We can just... go away on vacation or something.”

“I was thinking Alaska.”

“That... that might work, yeah. At a national park or something where it would actually be a _good_ thing and not... just... really, really awkward.”

“I’ve got some contacts,” Bobby offered. “Might be a huntin’ cabin free for that week.”

Agatha nodded. “That sounds lovely, Uncle Bobby. Thank you.”

And suddenly Sam realized _why_ he was wishing so hard he had a girlfriend to run off for the night with. He blushed so hard his ears felt as hot as his cheeks, and Dean cleared his throat and changed the subject.

* * *

Awkwardness over the ‘gods of spring’ effect aside, staying for supper did give Gil and Agatha a chance to brainstorm some short-term coping strategies with Bobby. And the good food and laughter did all five of them a world of good, judging from the ease of everyone’s smiles when the newlyweds took their leave around sundown.

As Gil and Agatha walked outside, Gil took a deep breath of rose-scented air and let it out again. “So. What now?”

Agatha bit her lip and fiddled with her ring for a moment before looking up at him. “Could we go flying?”

He blinked. “Flying?”

“Doesn’t have to be far. Just around the block or something.”

He smiled. “Yeah, sure.”

She smiled back, and he stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, just relishing the physicality of their closeness. Then he kissed the top of her head, took another deep breath, spread his wings... and they were airborne. She laughed in delight as they swooped and soared through the red-and-gold sky, and he grinned so hard he thought his face might split. They circled the salvage yard for fifteen minutes or so before touching down on Bobby’s front porch again, and then she turned in his arms and gave him a thank-you kiss.

“What else does my lady command?” he teased. When she giggled and kissed him again, he added, “No, really, we can do anything you want.”

She hugged him, tucked her head under his chin, and sighed. “I think I just want to go home.”

“Okay.” He held her close and closed his eyes... and when he opened them again, they were in her bedroom in Beetleburg.

Which smelled like... roses.

He looked around, unsure whether he still had the scent of Bobby’s roses in his nostrils. Then he saw that the door was closed and gulped involuntarily; he’d seen inside her room on past visits and had come in a couple of times to play games with her on her computer, but they’d always been scrupulous about keeping the door open.

“Oh, gosh,” she muttered, backing away and looking around herself. “Sorry, my room is—” She stopped, noticing that the room _wasn’t_ a wreck, as she’d been about to disclaim. Then she turned toward the window and gasped, prompting him to turn and look.

Her twin bed was gone. In its place stood the double bed from the spare room, fitted with red satin sheets and a white bedspread that had rose petals scattered over it. There was a handwritten card on the pillows, too:

> _Gil is welcome to stay with us for as long as he’s home.  
>  We love you both, and we’re very proud of you.  
>  Congratulations!  
>  Mom and Dad_

  
Agatha burst into smiling tears, and Gil kissed her tenderly.

 _Will you stay?_ she asked. _At least for tonight?_

 _Sure_ , he replied. _And like I said, we can do anything you want._

She smiled. _Okay._

He caressed her cheek with his left hand. “I love you so much, Agatha.”

“You’re the best, Gil. I love you, too.”

They hugged each other tight and melted into merge.


	3. The Devil You Call

Gil drove Agatha to school Monday morning on his way back to Sioux Falls to hit the books with Dean and Bobby. With Mom and Dad home and Cody out of commission, Gil had been able to help her completely catch up on the research she’d needed to do over the break, and thanks to the merge and the mind-link, she hadn’t needed to re-read everything before writing her paper or call Mom in for more than the final read-through. So after giving him a goodbye kiss, she walked into Beetleburg High with her paper in her backpack, her marriage mark hidden with the new mineral-based makeup Mom had helped her find on Saturday after the regular kind had started burning her skin, and full confidence in her ability to finish her senior year on a high note.

Jo Harvelle met her on the front steps. “Agatha! Ash is just _dying_ to know what happened on Wednesday, and he says Gil won’t tell him!”

“We’re just now getting set to announce it,” Agatha replied and proudly held out her left hand.

Jo gasped. “You’re _engaged?!_ ”

Agatha grinned. “June 21.”

“Oh, Midsummer—hey, that’s awesome! Have you picked bridesmaids yet?” Jo asked as they walked inside.

“Haven’t had all that much time to plan, no, but you know you’re on the short list.”

“Yay! Can I be maid of honor?”

“I should offer it to Max first, but if she’s not up to it, sure.”

“Why wouldn’t she be up to it?”

“She had to have her gall bladder out—”

“ _There_ she is!” roared Cody’s voice, and Agatha turned to see him charging out of a side hall, his left hand and the left side of his face hidden by bandages but the rest of his face a livid red, snarling obscenities as he stormed up to her. “What the _hell_ did you do to me?” he demanded and tried to grab her left arm.

Instinctively, Agatha sidestepped, grabbed Cody’s arm, and used his own momentum to spin him around and slam him into the wall. When he tried to lunge at her again, she kneed him hard in the groin, and as he collapsed, a well-placed boot to the solar plexus sent him back against the wall and left him wheezing for breath.

She grabbed him by the back of the neck before he could slump all the way forward, pulled him upright, and looked him in the eye. “You. You do not touch me. You do not speak to me. You do not _threaten_ or _swear at_ me. You _will_ take no for an answer. You _will_ accept that I am not your girlfriend, I never will be your girlfriend, I am _taken_. You will stay _far, far away from me_ —and if you don’t, you may not need to worry about what Gil and Dad will do when they find out, because I might just end you myself. _Do you understand?_ ” Despite the low volume at which she was speaking, her voice had started echoing, and that last question made the wall and floor shake a little, but she couldn’t find it in her to care.

He made a couple of choking noises before squeaking, “Yes, Mistress!”

She shot a small jolt of electricity between her thumb and forefinger and let him go, ignoring the way his unburned eye rolled back in his head and the way he slumped to one side as she walked away from him. And even more steadfastly, she ignored the cheers and applause that broke out among the other students who’d seen the fight.

“That was _amazing!_ ” Jo cried, following her to her locker. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Only then did Agatha fully realize what she’d just done. The guys had all been training in hand-to-hand combat most of their lives, and Jo, as a hunter’s daughter, probably had, too, but Agatha had never had a day’s training in her life. That meant the knowledge and the muscle memory could have had only one source—and she couldn’t confess that in public, not even to Jo.

“Um,” she said before deciding a half truth was better than none. “I learned it from Gil.”

 _Who has the best wife in the world_ , Gil’s voice rang in her head suddenly as she opened her locker, which she could only hope would hide the state of her eyes and her blush at the surge of pride and affection that came over their link.

 _That was all right, then?_ she thought back.

_It was spectacular, sweetheart, and if I don’t sign off now, I’ll never make it to Sioux Falls._

Her blush deepened, but she couldn’t suppress a giggle. _All right, then. I love you._

 _Love you, too_ , he sent, and she felt the link disengage.

Jo was still beside her, unfortunately. “Oh, what’s the blush and the giggle about?”

“Nothing,” Agatha lied and put her lunch and afternoon books in her locker while trying desperately to stop blushing. She didn’t know how she would ever survive to graduation like this.

Mercifully, Jo only chuckled. “See you at lunch,” she said and left Agatha to regain her composure.

And she needed every ounce of composure she could muster because no sooner had she handed her essay to her homeroom teacher than the assistant principal’s snippy voice called over the intercom, _“Miss Wilson, please send Agatha Clay to the office immediately.”_

A cacophony of reactions erupted: “Uuuuuum...” “Uh-ohhh...” “Give ’em hell, Aggie!”

“What’s going on?” the girl behind her whispered to her neighbor.

“She beat up Cody Senear!” the neighbor whispered back breathlessly.

“You’re _kidding_. Varsity quarterback? Built like a Mack truck? _That_ Cody Senear?”

“ _That_ Cody Senear! I swear, she’s a ninja!”

With a deep breath, Agatha zipped up her backpack, made sure her hex bag was still in her pocket, stood to accept the hall pass from Miss Wilson, and walked out of the classroom with her head held high.

 _Just stay calm_ , she reminded herself, scarcely noticing the way the sunlight streaming through the front doors was quickly blocked by clouds. _Remember your rights. There was bound to be trouble over this, even with witnesses. Even if you’re expelled, Gil can help you explain to Stanford. You cannot. Kill. Mr. Merlot. Not over this._

In the office, a scared-looking secretary directed Agatha back to Mr. Merlot’s office. But thanks be to God, backup was already sitting on his desk in the form of the principal, Mr. Glassvitch. Everyone loved Mr. Glassvitch, apart from a few of the worst miscreants and the occasional white supremacist; but he and his wife went to church with the Clays, so Agatha knew him better than most.

“Agatha!” Mr. Glassvitch exclaimed as he stood. “I can’t believe what Mr. Merlot has just told me!”

“What would that be, sir?” Agatha asked, taking the seat he offered her and hoping her voice sounded as calm and even as she was aiming for.

“Miss Clay,” Mr. Merlot sneered before Mr. Glassvitch could reply, “do you deny having _savagely beaten_ Cody Senear, to the point that he had to be taken to the hospital?”

Mr. Merlot had been assistant principal since Agatha’s sophomore year, and while he was never exactly kind to any of the students, he’d always been particularly unpleasant to Agatha for no reason that she could discern. Plus, he was a close friend of the Senears. She could tell he was bound and determined to twist this incident any way he could to railroad her.

“I would like to make two phone calls, if I may,” she stated quietly.

“We’ve already called your mother,” Mr. Glassvitch replied.

“I would still like to make two phone calls.”

“Not until you answer my question, Miss Clay,” Mr. Merlot snarled.

The light outside dimmed further.

Agatha looked Mr. Merlot in the eye through his ridiculous sepia-tinted glasses, the ones Jo always said made him look like a child molester. “I am eighteen years old, Mr. Merlot. I am legally an adult. I am also an American citizen with the constitutionally guaranteed right to remain silent.”

Mr. Merlot flinched, and Mr. Glassvitch reached across his desk to bring the phone over to Agatha. “Dial ‘9’ for the outside line,” he told her.

Her first call was home to ask Mom to bring “the stuff I left on Dad’s desk”—namely the answering machine tapes full of Cody’s threats—“and Uncle Barry’s friend,” meaning their elderly attorney. Her second call was to Gil.

“Hello?” he answered, confused.

“It’s me,” she replied. “I need you.”

She heard his tires squeal as he turned back. “On my way.”

“Thank you.” She hung up, settled back in her seat, and closed her eyes as she felt the link reopen.

“This is no time for a nap, Miss Clay!” Mr. Merlot snapped.

“And I have no intention of taking one, sir,” she returned. “But my eyes have undergone some significant changes in the last week, and the light in this office is currently bothering them. I hope you will excuse me for resting them until my mother arrives.”

Mr. Merlot grumbled but didn’t press the issue.

 _Who’s this Merlot character?_ Gil asked. _Don’t remember him from my time there._

 _No, he came after you graduated_ , she answered and fed him all the information she could.

He growled, and she could sense him flooring the accelerator. _Do you need me to—_

_No. No, just drive. Mom won’t be here for a few minutes anyway, and you shouldn’t get here before she does._

Mr. Merlot banged on his desk. “Miss Clay, stop that infernal humming!”

“Leave her alone, Silas,” Mr. Glassvitch ordered.

Agatha tuned out Mr. Merlot’s response, but then there were other voices in the hall, and two other people came into the room.

“You called the _police?!_ ” Mr. Glassvitch gasped.

“It’s a clear case of assault,” Mr. Merlot shot back.

Distant thunder rolled as Agatha stopped humming.

“Actually, we were on our way here to get witness statements anyway,” said another male voice, a police officer. “Mr. Senear wasn’t even supposed to be here today.”

“He wasn’t?” Mr. Glassvitch and Mr. Merlot chorused.

“No, Lincoln PD called around 7:45. He’s still got at least a week’s treatment ahead for that blast injury, but this morning he busted out of the burn unit and ran off without even checking out AMA. Injured five nurses and a doctor on his way out. And one of the nurses who tried to stop him said she heard him say he was ‘going to school to make that...’ er, female dog ‘pay.’”

Agatha allowed herself a small smile.

“It’s a good thing he’d had that _petit mal_ seizure,” the other officer added. “EMTs got him pumped full of paralytics and antipsychotics before they put him on the LifeFlight to Lincoln. Kid’s probably looking at a psych consult, minimum, once they get up there, and it sounds like the hospital’s planning to file assault charges.”

“Agatha!” Mom called and rushed into the room before Mr. Merlot could say anything. “What’s going on?”

Agatha opened her eyes and turned. “Hi, Mom. Did you bring the—”

“Yes, they’re right here.” Mom held up a Walmart bag briefly, then greeted everyone else and sat down in the chair next to Agatha’s.

Mr. Glassvitch looked past them into the hall. “And you are...?”

“Carson Heliotrope, Attorney at Law,” came the answer as Mr. Heliotrope walked in and stood behind Agatha’s chair. “Miss Clay is a client of mine.”

Mr. Merlot looked at Agatha incredulously. “Eighteen, and you already have a lawyer?”

But it was Mr. Heliotrope who answered. “I represent both the Clay family and Miss Clay personally in matters concerning the estate of her father, William Sanders.”

“Co-founder of Sanders Brothers Defense,” Mom added, with the strong implication of _My daughter is a multi-millionaire and will squash you like a bug in court_.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Heliotrope,” Agatha said. “Especially now that the police are involved, I thought it would be best not to answer any questions without your presence.”

“You’re a bright young lady, Agatha. I’m glad you had Judy call.”

One of the policemen got out a notebook, and Mr. Merlot opened his mouth, but Mom cut them both off. “Agatha,” she asked, putting a hand on Agatha’s arm, “what happened?”

“Cody showed up this morning,” Agatha answered. “He was screaming, swearing at me. He tried to grab me, and... I fought back.”

“And sent the boy back to the hospital,” Mr. Merlot snarled.

“Which he shouldn’t have left to begin with,” Mr. Glassvitch shot back.

“Were there any witnesses, Miss Clay?” the second officer asked while the first jotted notes.

Agatha nodded. “I was talking with Jo Harvelle when it happened, but there were a bunch of other people in the halls. It’s probably all over school by now.”

“Is there any reason Mr. Senear would have been angry with you?”

“Well, for one thing, he thinks I made his phone explode.”

“And did you?” Mr. Merlot asked savagely as the officers exchanged a knowing look.

“ _No_ ,” Agatha replied, more disdainfully than she meant to, and the thunder drew nearer.

Mr. Glassvitch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Silas, how would it be humanly possible for a girl to make a telephone explode while the user was talking on it? Especially when he was _alone_ at the time?”

Gil was as amused by that question as Agatha was.

Mr. Merlot ground his teeth, and the first officer asked, “Why would he blame _you_ for the phone exploding?”

“Because it happened while he was leaving a threatening message on our answering machine,” Agatha answered.

The first officer’s eyebrows shot up. “What sort of threatening message?”

Agatha took a deep breath. “Cody’s been trying to convince me to go to prom with him. Between Monday and Wednesday, he was calling multiple times an hour. I had already told him no, so I didn’t answer the phone. The messages he left went from polite requests to harsh requests to threats. By Wednesday afternoon, he was threatening to kill me if I didn’t say yes.”

“We still have one of the old machines that records on cassette,” Mom added. “These should verify Agatha’s story.” And she handed the Walmart bag to the second officer, who nodded his thanks.

“And why did you let things go that far?” Mr. Merlot sneered.

“I had already told him no,” Agatha answered, and the thunder drew closer still. “I will not let myself be bullied!”

“Well, why _did_ you tell him no? It’s just prom. Why don’t you just give him a chance?”

“Because she _happens_ to be going with me,” Gil replied from the doorway.

Agatha relaxed slightly.

The first officer paused in his note-taking. “And you are?”

“Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, Valedictorian, Class of ’98.”

“Oh, Gil, I didn’t get to see you Sunday,” said Mr. Glassvitch. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

Gil smiled as he came forward to shake Mr. Glassvitch’s hand. “Thank you, sir. Mr. Heliotrope,” he added with a nod.

“Good morning, Mr. Wulfenbach,” Mr. Heliotrope returned.

“Gil and I have been dating since my freshman year,” Agatha explained to the officers. “Cody knew that, and I told him straight out that Gil was going to be my date to the prom. And he still kept asking me, trying to convince me to break up with Gil and go out with him instead.”

The first officer nodded, and the second said, “Sounds like a pretty clear case of self-defense to me. We’d better tell Lincoln to add attempted assault, harassment, and terroristic threats to the charge list.”

“I’m sorry about all this, Agatha,” said Mr. Glassvitch. “You can go back to class now.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Mr. Heliotrope said in a satisfied tone.

But Mr. Merlot shot to his feet. “You’re _letting her go?!_ She attacked him!”

“With considerable justification, I’d say,” Mr. Glassvitch replied.

“Justification or not, it is still an assault! Look at her; there’s not a mark on her! And she’s _clearly_ the one who provoked him!”

There was a loud clap of thunder as Agatha stood. “So what _should_ I have done? Let him hit me? Let him _rape_ me? Let him KILL ME?!”

“You could have given him _one date!_ ”

“I AM ALREADY ENGAGED TO GIL!” She just barely remembered not to say _married_.

“Oh, wait, wait,” Gil interrupted, putting a cooling hand on Agatha’s shoulder, even though his quiet tone hid his own growing rage. “That’s why you hate Agatha, isn’t it? She reminds you of someone.”

Mr. Merlot suddenly looked like a trapped weasel.

“Where was it you taught before? Miami of Ohio?”

Mr. Merlot paled. “How did you know that?”

“I remember now. There was a chem prof there who was notorious for his impossible classes. Nobody could pass without kissing up to him.”

Mr. Merlot gulped.

“She was an undergrad, wasn’t she? Strawberry blonde, just like Agatha, and smart enough she almost managed to pass in spite of you. Smart enough to _turn you down_.”

Agatha wasn’t sure whether Gil were guessing or whether he had some sort of fae sight about the incident, but either way, Mr. Merlot was shaking.

“She was already married. She was _three months pregnant_.”

“Shut up,” Mr. Merlot hissed.

Pea-sized hail began pouring from the clouds.

“But you knew that,” Gil pressed. “She _told you_ , and you still wouldn’t leave her alone.”

“Sh-sh-shut up.”

“You knew she’d be working late in the lab alone that night. You made sure of it, didn’t you? You sabotaged her lab equipment.”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

“You tried to make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. She threatened to call the police. You snapped. Your hands were around her throat.”

“SHUT UP!”

“When you realized what you’d done, you set the lab on fire to make it look like an accident!”

“SHUUUT UUUUP!” Mr. Merlot screamed and tried to jump across the desk to throttle Gil, but lightning struck the building, knocking out the power, and in the process a bright blue bolt arced off the metal of the window frame and struck Mr. Merlot square in the back. He landed hard on the desk, gasping for breath.

As one of the officers started CPR and the other radioed for an ambulance, Mr. Glassvitch herded everyone else out of the office. Once they were out in the hall, he blew the air out of his cheeks and turned to Gil. “How much of all that was true?”

“Well, I’d heard most of it from my roommate Theo,” Gil admitted. “Friend of his, Hezekiah Donowitz, was the TA, blamed himself for stepping out of the lab for five minutes to try to find a replacement for the part that was sabotaged. He hadn’t even known the professor was in the building, just assumed it was a regular chemical fire until the arson investigators started asking questions and the prof disappeared. It was a huge scandal. In fact, that’s the reason Theo decided on Stanford—he figured our labs would be safer.”

The hail gave way to heavy rain.

“I hope Mr. Merlot will be all right,” Agatha said, not sure if she meant it.

Mr. Glassvitch nodded. “Yes. Yes, so do I.” After a pause, he continued, “You’ve had quite an ordeal this morning, Agatha. I’ll call the superintendent to see about dismissing classes because of the power outage, but you go on home now. Consider this your Senior Skip Day.”

“Thank you, Mr. Glassvitch,” she said and did mean it.

“I suppose I’ll be on my way,” said Mr. Heliotrope, shook hands with everyone, and left just as the ambulance arrived, so Mr. Glassvitch followed to meet the EMTs at the door.

“As long as I’m out,” Mom told Gil and Agatha, “I do have a few errands to run.”

“I can take you home,” Gil offered Agatha.

Agatha nodded. “Thanks.”

“See you at home, then,” Mom said with a wink and left.

“Seriously?” Agatha asked as Gil escorted her back to her locker to retrieve her lunch.

He nodded. “Seriously. Hezekiah showed up on our doorstep drunk one night; Theo told us the whole story. Merlot did a great job of covering his tracks, though. Wouldn’t have put two and two together without... y’know.”

“Merlot’s not his real name, is it?”

“No. I’m not sure Theo even knew what his real name is.”

She got her lunch and shut her locker. “Poor Hezekiah.”

“Yeah. Last I heard, he’s made Aliyah, and he’s at a kollel in... Tel Aviv, I think, studying to become a rabbi.”

She took his hand, and as they left, the rain started to let up. They didn’t talk much on the way home. But it wasn’t until they were all the way in the kitchen and putting her lunch back in the fridge that she finally fully relaxed.

Then he chuckled.

“What?” she asked.

“Just remembering what you did to Cody.”

“Well, you started it,” she teased.

“No, you started it. You called me in.”

“But you didn’t have to do _that_.”

“And _you_ didn’t have to zap Merlot.”

She giggled. “Does that make us even?”

“Not hardly,” he replied and kissed her—and in a flash, the kitchen was empty.

It was a long time before they came down for lunch.

* * *

The rumor weed had spread faster than kudzu on Miracle-Gro by the time prom night finally arrived. In truth, Merlot and Cody were both going to recover, although Cody might always be deaf in his left ear and might never be able to have kids, and Merlot had cataracts and no memory of even leaving his house Monday morning. As soon as they were well enough, however, Cody was headed to the psych ward, and Merlot was being extradited to Ohio to stand trial for murder and arson.

Agatha, while she wasn’t prom queen, had become something of a rock star. No one could _prove_ she had summoned the thunderstorm, of course, but that didn’t stop all manner of tall tales from circulating, none of which were completely true but some of which came closer to the mark than Gil liked. (Not that she could have helped it; not that she had no reason to be angry; not that his own anger didn’t contribute.) And even the students who didn’t believe that part of it were still awed by the fight with Cody, which had taken on its own mythical dimensions within hours. Jocks gave her a wide berth, and half of the senior girls—many of whom had never even _spoken_ to Agatha before—suddenly wanted to be her bridesmaids.

“I don’t know,” she sighed in the back seat of the Impala as Dean drove them to the dance hall, fidgeting with one of the ruffles on her forest green gown. “I’d almost rather ask Colette and Sleipnir, and I’ve never even met them.”

“They’ll be coming anyway, I suspect,” Gil replied, flicking a piece of fuzz off his midnight-blue tux jacket. “Unless Colette’s taking the summer off and going back to Paris, she’ll be there with Tarvek, and Theo and Sleipnir are practically inseparable anymore. I can ask them if you’d like.”

“Maybe so. Thanks. Those two, Max, and Jo... think that’ll make for a much happier wedding party than trying to choose among queen bees.”

“And that choice will probably go down a lot better when they find out Colette’s Afro-French and could have been a supermodel.”

“What about Violetta?” Dean asked.

“She can be flower girl,” Gil and Agatha chorused, and Dean laughed.

And then they were pulling up outside the dance hall’s front door. Dean, playing the chauffeur to the hilt, got out first to open the back door for them; Gil got out first and gallantly ushered Agatha out of the car. Agatha thanked Dean with a kiss on the cheek, and he closed doors and headed back to the Clays’ house for the night. Then she took Gil’s arm and let him usher her inside to screams, applause, and insincere socializing. Everyone wanted pictures. Everyone wanted to gush over Agatha’s dress and hair.

Everyone cleared the dance floor when “Waltz Across Texas” came on and the Wulfenbachs started dancing. Apparently no one else had ever learned to waltz.

“Are we Beauty and the Beast?” he joked after the first verse.

She laughed. “You’re certainly shaggy enough.”

“Is that your way of telling me to get a haircut?”

She laughed again.

“Well, you’re certainly the belle of the ball,” he noted and kissed her, and they kept dancing.

Nobody saw them leave after the first half hour. Nobody but Dean and the Clays knew they went to St. Louis for a concert at the Fox Theater and a night at the Ritz Carlton.

“Wish you didn’t have to go so soon,” she sighed when they rematerialized in her bedroom early the next morning.

“I do, too,” he confessed. “Gonna be a long two months. But hey—if we can survive this, we can survive anything.”

She smiled a little. “One last merge before you go?”

He was only too happy to comply.

The drive back to Palo Alto was a lot harder than he’d expected, even with the link open the first day so they could still chatter when they wanted to. He stopped for the night in western Wyoming, had very vivid dreams, and was disappointed to wake up without her in his arms. But he had to push on, both because he had classes starting on Tuesday and because he needed to take care of wedding business at Stanford. So push on he did, after closing his end of the link so he wouldn’t disturb Agatha at school.

Somewhere around Elko, Nevada, he finally realized that the hum that kept blocking out the radio was coming from him. Only then did it register that he’d been doing it off and on since about the third merge. He suddenly wished he’d had another week to spend in Sioux Falls, researching coping techniques with Bobby—he’d learned enough that things were better now, but his control of his powers in public still wasn’t perfect. (Then again, if he’d stayed any longer, Bobby’s house might have been completely covered in roses.)

It was late Monday afternoon when Gil finally drove through the gate of his apartment complex. His first stop was the office/clubhouse, since he needed to turn in his quarter of the rent. He’d already informed the office that he’d be a few days late; he would have paid it early, but his stipend from Boeing didn’t normally arrive before the first of the month.

As he walked in and dropped his rent check in the drop box, he heard Vanamonde von Mekkhan saying goodbye to a couple of girls, and as he turned the corner past the office, the girls went out the back door toward the pool. Van, at his usual place by the coffee bar, was the only one left in the room, but he was still watching the departing co-eds. That was a good thing; Gil hadn’t expected to have this conversation this soon, but he did have some pointed questions to ask, and now was as good a time as any to ask them.

“Hey, Van,” he called.

“Gil!” Van replied, setting down his mug, and started to turn around. “Welcome ba—” Then his eyes widened and his smile faded, and he fell off his stool to his knees, murmuring something that didn’t even sound Romanian.

Gil blinked. “What?”

“Th-th-the mark,” Van stammered. “My—my lady’s _mark_....”

Gil crossed the room in the blink of an eye and grabbed the front of Van’s shirt with both hands. “Stop it. _Stop it._ You’re _not_ going to worship me!”

“You—Het—I—I—”

“Dammit, _shut up_ , or I’ll... I’ll... I’ll blight your coffee for fifty years!”

Van flinched and paled.

Gil sighed. “Sorry, that’s... look, why don’t we....”

And they were both sitting on the couch like civilized humans.

Gil sighed again and let go of Van’s shirt. “That’s why you’ve never told us exactly where you’re from, isn’t it? You’re from one of the old families—a noble one, I’m guessing, given the ‘von’—but it’s not like anyone in this country’s ever heard of Mekkhan. And you were supposed to keep it that way.”

Van nodded miserably. “I was bound by a blood oath.”

“Who bound you? Neptune Heterodyne?”

Van nodded again. “My father’s the seneschal. The Master said it was one thing for me to leave and gain new ideas to bring back, but... no one could know.”

“Why’d you come here?”

“To study. That’s all, I swear.”

“Not to look for Saturn’s family?”

“No. The Master... he-he said there might be... b-b-but he didn’t know. He said he thought... he thought they might be dead.” Van bit his lip. “If... if it isn’t prying... who....”

“Agatha Teodora.”

Van hissed. “Teodora the _traitress?!_ ”

Gil’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, is _that_ what they told you? ’Cause the way I hear it, Saturn Heterodyne was a Nazi.”

Van cringed. “It wasn’t like that!”

“It wasn’t, huh?”

“You don’t understand! I—it—my—our g—” Van choked on his words and buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“Your goddess demands human sacrifice.”

Van nodded.

“Still.”

“Not as much,” Van croaked into his hands. “J-just once a year. Only criminals. My grandfather says she hasn’t been seen since Master Neptune came of age.”

“Which was... what, mid-’60s?”

Van nodded and dropped his hands but didn’t look up.

Gil sighed yet again. “All right, look. Your goddess has already established a new line of heirs, right?”

Van nodded.

“And even if she hadn’t, she’s not gonna want someone brought up in the States who’s named after her least favorite daughter-in-law.”

Van grimaced and nodded.

“There’s also the fact that Agatha and I are baptized, confirmed, committed _Christians_.”

Van finally looked up at that, his blue eyes deeply troubled.

“We’re also hunters—of ‘ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties and things that go bump in the night.’”

Van looked even more worried at that.

Gil grabbed Van’s shirt again without really realizing what he was doing. “So if you breathe a word to anyone back home,” he growled quietly, “or if you treat Agatha as anything other than a human, a fellow student, and _my wife_... we’ll go to Transylvania, kill your goddess, and burn Mekkhan to the ground. _Understand?_ ”

Van gulped and squeaked, “Yes, my lord!”

Gil rolled his eyes and let him go. “Oh, knock it off, or I _will_ do something to your coffee.”

“Sorry. Habit. Plus, your....” Van gestured toward his eyes.

“Ah, geez. Still?”

“No, it’s... it’s gone now.”

“Good.” Gil really needed to find a way to keep the eye glow under control if he didn’t want to freak anyone else out.

“Um....”

“Don’t. Ask. Just don’t. I don’t want your goddess getting ideas.” Gil scrubbed at his eyes with his left hand.

“You didn’t know, did you?” Van asked quietly. When Gil looked questioningly at him, Van pointed to the marriage mark.

“No. Neither one of us did. Eloped on the equinox, didn’t know what we were doing.”

Van sighed and put a hand on Gil’s shoulder. “Gil, I’m sorry. I’ll... I’ll try to rein it in.”

“Do or do not,” Gil quoted flatly. “There is no try.”

“I hear you. I do. And I still want to be your friend. It’s just... you have to understand, growing up... i-i-it’s not going to be easy, letting go of that. Especially with the oath. It’s not—I mean, we don’t even have Internet in our village, so we don’t... that was normal to us. I _will_ try, for your sake and hers. But I’m... I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep quiet if I go home. Master Neptune wants me to share what I learn, and... he might... he might force me to speak.”

“So don’t go home.”

“Gil, I _have_ to. That’s part of the oath. If I don’t go home, she’ll kill me.”

And by _she_ , Gil knew, Van didn’t mean Agatha. He nodded thoughtfully. “What’s your deadline?”

“Graduation. Might be extended if I go to grad school; I don’t know. Just when I’ve finished school.”

Gil bit his lip. “All right, look. Keep your mouth shut as long as you can, and we’ll see if we can’t find a way to get you out of it.”

Van’s eyes lit up. “You think you can?”

“Maybe. We’ve got resources; we can ask. It’s worth a try. And it’s not fair for me to threaten you over something you literally might not be _able_ not to do.”

“Thank you. I—my— _thank you_.”

Gil offered his hand. Van shook it with a wobbly smile, then got up to go back to the coffee bar while Gil regained his composure.

After a moment, Gil stood. “Guess I’d better go check the mail while I’m over here.”

“Theo got it this morning,” Van reported. “Second post hasn’t come yet.”

“Oh. Thanks. Well—”

“Gil?”

“What?”

“I, um... I need to declare my major soon. I was thinking of Product Design at first, or International Relations, but... what about Management Science and Engineering?”

Gil blinked. “Is that... that’s a coterminal program, isn’t it?”

“Can be. Could even do a joint degree with Law or with Public Policy.” Van took a deep breath. “I’ve also heard talk about an interdisciplinary honors program on Democracy, Development, and the Rule of Law. That might... include some useful ideas, too.”

Gil smiled. “I’m not your master, Van. But it sounds good to me.”

Van’s answering smile looked a lot more relieved. “Thanks.”

With that, Gil left and moved his car back to its usual parking space in front of his apartment building.

“Gil!” Theo DuMedd called from the staircase as Gil got out.

Gil waved, got his duffle out of the back seat, and met Theo with a handshake-hug at the foot of the stairs.

“Perfect timing,” Theo said. “I was just headed out to the store before Ardsley and Tarvek get home. We went kayaking this weekend after Tarvek got in from Blue Earth, completely forgot about groceries.”

Gil laughed, and they started up the stairs together. “What else did I miss?”

“Well, I hate to inform you, but you’re losing your best roommate next quarter.”

“What, you mean Ardsley’s finally got a girlfriend?”

Theo laughed at that. “Sleipnir wants me to move in with her when the lease is up.”

“Well, I hate to inform _you_ , but I’m moving back on campus anyway.”

“She said yes?!”

“And how. Wedding’s June 21. Agatha wants me to see if Colette and Sleipnir would be willing to be bridesmaids.”

“Can’t speak for Colette, but I’m sure Sleipnir will be thrilled. Who’s your best man?”

“Dean—but I want you three for my groomsmen.”

“Well, you already know _that_ answer.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

Theo laughed again.

“Oh, and Dean says you are absolutely not allowed to plan the bachelor party. And you’re not allowed to tend the bar, either.”

“Awww, why not?” Theo asked and unlocked the door.

“You’re the only person I know capable of getting _me_ plastered,” Gil noted as they walked in. “And this is one event we are not showing up to with a hangover.”

The equivalent of a loud gasp burst from the lobster tank, and then Zoing cheered wildly and started dancing all over the tank, incoherent with joy.

“Looks like _somebody_ missed you!” Theo teased.

“Well, it’s the longest I’ve ever left him before,” Gil hedged, glad Theo almost certainly couldn’t hear Zoing’s sing-song turn into _Prettigurl, prettigurl, lalalalalalala...._

“Ardsley kept him pretty well fed and entertained,” Theo reported.

Gil smiled. “Not surprised.” Then his smile faded. “Oh, hey, do you still keep in touch with Hezekiah?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You can tell him we got that chemistry prof.”

“You— _what?!_ ”

“He’s been hiding out in Beetleburg as the assistant principal at the high school. Tried to railroad Agatha when she beat up a guy who was trying to bully her into going to prom with him. Something he said tipped me off, and I managed to blow his cover in front of the cops.”

Theo’s jaw dropped. “Okay, now that? That sounds like a heck of a story.”

Gil smiled. “Yeah, and I’ll be happy to tell all three of you tonight.”

“Right. Anything special you want for supper?”

“Eh, surprise me.”

“Don’t say that,” Theo teased as he turned to go. “You might wind up with curried Irish stew!”

Gil laughed, then waited until the door was closed before turning to the tank. “All right, say it.”

 _TOLDU!_ Zoing crowed, raising his claws in triumph. _TOLDU, TOLDU! Gottagurl, prettigurl, lalalalalalala...._

Gil chuckled, then brought a stool over to the tank and sat down. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you?”

Zoing stopped dancing and gave the lobster equivalent of a nod. _Izamark!_

“A mark?”

_Yop! Shmarkau, umarkahor._

“We marked... the-the day we _met?_ ”

_Yop!_

“But... but how?”

Zoing made an uncertain noise and waved his claws as he searched for a reply. _Gretones_ , he finally said, as if that explained everything.

“Great ones? Agatha and I? You mean the fact that we’re....”

_Yop._

“We just found out! You could _tell?_ ”

_Izy asku sevame._

Gil felt tears sting his eyes as he thought back to that grocery store in Toledo, Zoing rapping his bound claws desperately against the side of the lobster tank until he’d caught ten-year-old Gil’s attention. The other lobsters had all scuttled away at his approach, but Zoing had begged Gil to help him escape. “You knew,” he breathed. “But... why me?”

_Ubright. Ugud. Izashiny._

Gil put a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. He didn’t know why, but after everything, that was exactly what he’d needed to hear.

Zoing crawled up to the tank wall and pressed his left claw flat against the glass. _Luvu._

Gil sniffled and pressed his right hand to the glass to ‘meet’ Zoing’s claw. “I love you, too, buddy. I love you, too.”

* * *

Outside, hidden from mortal sight, a powerful being smiled in satisfaction. Those hex bags the kids had were the real deal— _he_ hadn’t even seen this coming. He’d only been aiming to make sure that murderer got his comeuppance; Gil and Agatha had come as a total surprise. And now that he’d followed Gil back from Beetleburg, he could see that Stanford was going to be a much better place for Sam Winchester than anyone on the God Squad knew.

The best part of all was that his idiot brothers wouldn’t have any idea about Gil and Agatha, or the Adventure Club, either. There wasn’t anything he needed to do here; he could wrap up his last year at Miami University of Ohio and move on to greener pastures before John Winchester could track him down.

 _Oh, yes_ , Gabriel thought, unwrapping a new lollipop before flying away. _These Wulfenbachs might just be the ultimate trick._


End file.
